Breaking Stones
by Cheshire Eyes and Cyanide
Summary: This is a Clato fanfic that begins a month before the reaping
1. Chapter 1

**Date: September 26th**

**Date of reaping: October 26th**

_I'm falling, falling off of a place I once knew as reality, where did my humanity go, where did my life go?_

"Clover," my mother demanded my attention yet again in the dimly lit kitchen of our house, "You should really be getting to training soon." I stand up slowly, my face twisted into a look of hatred and distance, my refusal you talk to my mom continuing as I took my time in smoothing out the crinkles in my tunic before leaving the charcoal black house that my family had resided in all those years, and made my way to a training center that flourished in a bright red hue under the fall light.

A couple of the trainers roamed around the outside, slowly herding the younger kids inside for lessons or to watch the fights that had begun the day before, being a month away from the reaping, all schools had been shut down for practice. That's what life was for the eligible children here in district two, during schools days, you spend 5 hours in in class, then report to 'tribute practice', and in the final month, training becomes your life, morphing the tributes into victors was the goal of our district, the glory, riches, fame, that would outweigh the faults.

"Rule One, awareness of your surroundings," I hear a taunting voice respond as two large arms that Identify as Cato's wrap around my neck. I deliver an elbow to his stomach, hard enough to temporarily shock him, yet enough time to transfer my hands to a pressure point on his neck, that when squeezed, sends him reeling towards the floor.

"Rule two," I muse, "don't underestimate your opponent." His blue eyes stare up at me, and after all these years, I still don't know how to read them. He winces for a moment, leaning his head back as he took a huff of breath, the sound resembling a sort of bear. He chuckled, as if to accept defeat, one thing that Cato was not capable of admitting.

"Touché, Knives." He responds as he pulls himself off the floor that reeks of sweat and the iron of blood that's lasted there for years. "What's on the agenda for today?" he asks as the two of us begin to walking to the "heart of the center," the place where you meet before and after every practice, check in and out, and record progress. I shrug in response, completely expecting myself to be throwing knives for the better part of the day, but knowing very well that I should practice on skills that I would need in the arena if they didn't offer any knives.

I quickly scribble my name on a small and badly made wooden table that barely stands in the middle of the heart, threatening to fall over at any sign of disturbance, for one of the more…financially able districts, we couldn't make a good table for shit. "Clover Marcotte," he reads off in a comic capitol accent as he makes a scribble that may or may not be made out as his name, though before I have a chance to comment or punch him in the arm, after telling him how much I hate when he calls me Clover, he pulls me off to the arena.

I heard cheers, two different names being chanted from the audience, though being out of sync; it came into a mold of the two. They were younger kids, one looking to be about 13, while the other stood taller, looking to be closer to 14. They were sloppy in fighting, no doubt the kind of kids that goofed off during physical enrichment. One spat a slur at the other, and was rewarded with a punch to the jaw, receiving either a cheer or disheartened "oof" from the onlookers. The pair were quickly losing energy, after each swing they seemed to get slower with less accuracy then before. Before another shot was made, a tall, well-built man was on stage, Varius, on of the head trainers. He pushed the boys apart with calloused hands, "that's enough," he chuckled, his voice resonating with a brutal and sarcastic quality. "Who's next?" he mused, glancing around the audience, ignoring the younger children that were nearly jumping up and down for a chance to show the lot of people that showed up what skills they may have started to build. His eyes fall on Cato, who is obviously somewhere else at the moment. I jab him in the side, getting him back to the situation as Varius calls him up on stage, along with Archer Delson, knowing very well that the two have hated each other for years.

The two climb up to the stage, not a word transferred between them, in fact, the only noise to be heard were confused whispers that came from around the room. "Don't kill each other." Varius advises as he backs off the platform, "No promises," Archer says in a cocky tone, followed by the brunette leaning up and whispering something to Cato, who began to fume, his eyes turning into a fire that ran upon anger. Archer, who held a face of pride and arrogance, took his time leaning back into a fighting stance, allowing Cato a block of time to swing his fist into the boys jaw, at which point, he attacked. "That's the Cato I know," I mutter as the two swung at each other, mearly fighting to see the pain on the others face, rather than training. I glanced at the timer that hung on the wall, timing each fight; ten minutes. I shuffle over to Varius, who seems very interested as the boys attempt to strangle each other, "Don't you think you should stop them?" I ask. The man jumps, "Clove…" he breaths, taking in what I said for a moment, surveying the audience for a face that shared my concern, though most seemed more interested in the shade of blue that their faces would begin to flourish in as one blocked off their air. "Go ahead and stop them if you wish, we don't need a crippled victor."

I roll my eyes, entering the gated circle as the two took swings at each other. "HEY!" I shout, trying to get in between them without getting crushed under them. Archer dives for Cato's neck, but getting fed up, I swing an elbow back into his elbow into his stomach. Sending him backwards, and myself to the ground, and Cato's fist collides with my left eye.


	2. Chapter 2

Date: September 26th

Date of reaping: October 26th

_**Cato's POV:**_

I had lost control, and was somewhere on the line between hatred and insanity. Maybe I heard her scream for me to stop, maybe I knew she was there in the back of my mind, but when I had realized it, it was too late. My fist crashed into her face, though it wasn't my strongest blow, it was enough to knock clove over. She was silent, not dead, her subtle breathing pattern echoed through the now silent room as she stood up, her hand placed carefully over her left eye, and vanished into the crowd.

**I was a monster.**

I was the monster that had kept her up so many nights, that left her uncountable scars and wounds that would never heal. I hurt her, and I had promised not to. Should I follow her, but that would show weakness. But to stay here would be to lose her, but be feared. I glanced around the arena, though I showed no sign of distress or confusion. Maybe she would forgive me, but following her right now would be a set up to get attacked.

**I'll stay away.**

I look back at Archer; his smirk was appallingly obvious, maybe just to dig that knife of his whisper in a bit more, a way to say, "I told you so." I glared at him, making his smile fade slowly. "Well than…" Varius said, making the silence shatter like fine pottery on a metal floor, putting aside the fact that Clove would have a black eye because of me. I roll my eyes and leave the arena, heading back towards my house, not bothering to check out. I was done for the day, no matter how close to the reaping, I was angry, but at whom? Clove hadn't done anything, but she interfered with the fight, and I could've handled it by myself, right? So it was really her fault, I did nothing wrong.

**-Later that day-**

How long had Clove been sitting there, next to a pond that hid in a thicket of trees that no one thought much of. The brunette was pulling the petals off of flowers, throwing them in the water by the handful to see small fish surface and nibble at the edges, deciding whether or not to eat them. Every once and a while, she would pick up the apple and knife that sat besides her, carving a piece off and eating it slowly.

Slowly and carefully, I took a large step back knowing that when she was going out of her way to be alone, she was angry. **SNAP, **a large twig cracked in half under my weight, and I instinctively ducked behind a tree, knowing that Clove wasn't very friendly when taken by surprise. Sure enough, there was a thump, from the tree behind me, when sought after revealed her knife-sticking straight out, where my heart would've been if I hadn't moved.

She stays silent as I come out from the tree, automatically taken back by how quickly her eye has flourished into a mixture of blue, purple, and a smoky greyish brown. She turned away after making eye contact, obviously not too excited to see me out of anyone else in the world.

"Sorry that I punched you," I said quickly, taking a couple timid steps towards her, but settling a yard or two backs, just in case she still had a knife on her. Clove took a deep breath, not responding at all but obviously hearing me. "So you're gonna give me the silent treatment now? You know it was your fault, coming into the ring like that; you were bound to get hurt, so this isn't even my fault. You're acting like a total wimp right now." I spat out, regretting it quickly.

I heard her scrape her nails against a rock, where her knife used to lay, but upon not finding it, she whipped her body around while standing up. "You are such a goddamn asshole, Cato!" she shouts at me, pushing me back, strong for someone of her size. "All you think about is yourself and being stronger than everyone else, seriously Cato, do you think of anyone outside of your damn life?" She huffed, now breathing hard while making eye contact with me. In the old and low quality movies that played on some channels on my television, this would be the part where I kissed Clove, realized that we were meant to be, but in the glorious movie of life in Panem, this was that moment where she pushed past me, threatening to never talk to me again.

_**Clove's POV:**_

'_Don't Cry you damn baby,' _is the only thought that runs through my head as I shove Cato out of my way and moved towards the towns square, my tears quickly turning into pure rage as I crash through the final area of brush. Leaving any thoughts of liking or forgiving Cato behind.

I wasn't mad at him for punching me, I could take it, it was more how he responded, saying I was weak. No, I was strong, the strongest girl in the district, especially so despite my size. But no one would ever notice that, I was just the little girl with the knives, the one that people feared. I was the one with the always-drunk father who had one the games and the timid mother who had never done something for her. I was the one with two younger siblings that didn't know well from bad, I was just like anyone else.

"Clove!" I hear a high pitch voice squeal, one that belonged to my younger sister, who would be followed closely by her twin brother, "Azalie, Oren, shouldn't you two be in training?" I ask, knowing they had always had too much energy to pay attention to those lessons.

"We saw you get punched and came home, but you weren't here, so we ate a sandwich, and found a lizard, and now you're here," Oren said quickly, him always having more of a timid disposition compared to Azalie.

I shook my head, "You guys have to always train, it's your first year in the reaping, although the odds are very slim, you could still get chosen, you have one month to prove that you could be a victor, ok?" I say, trying to get them to understand that they have to be stronger, but the two simply nod and run off towards the mud in our backyard.

"Dinner will be soon!" I call after them, noticing that the sun is going down at this point, reminding me that I skipped lunch entirely as I walk into the house, sitting down on the new couch and leaning my head back. The capitol group would be arriving soon too make this place look nicer, get my father geared up for the next hunger games, make him look presentable.

"Clover, go get you father for me please?" my mother shouts from the kitchen, obviously wanting his help with something, though his drunk hands wouldn't be able to do anything for her, yet I still nod and walk upstairs to his office, stopping at the door and being hit by the smell of whiskey and rum. "Dad, mom wants your help with something." I tell him in a tone that says, 'get-your-ass-up-you-drunk-failure.'

The man looks at me, his sunken blue eyes that reflect mine, "what happened to you, you look worse than usual," he slurs, lazily motioning towards my eye. I don't bother to answer, knowing that the twins would talk about it during dinner, so I had no need to explain. I hastily turn towards the door with a grimace, "Alright, Grumpy, I'm coming, no need to get your hair in a knot," he hollers after me, before finishing his drink and waddling down the stairs in a fashion so that he wouldn't fall.

It's a large meal tonight, bread and a kind of stew that my mother puts together when the training hours become longer. Our glasses are each filled with an indistinguishable muck that seems to move on it's own and shines a bright yellow when you get through the top layer of a mucky brown. "Gross!" Azalie screams as she enters through the back door with Oren, both completely covered in mud. My mother looks like she's about to blow a circuit, but calmly tells them to clean up as my father enters the room with a chuckle, not even bothering to make a drunk, yet sarcastic remark about my mothers cooking as the family sits down to eat.

"So Clover," He begins, adding the "r" to the end just to see my muscles tense up, "Tell us on how you managed to get a black eye, another stupid training error that left you unconscious, I can tell you that you wouldn't last an hour in the games," I stab my knife into the table, my face twisting into an odd kind of smile and glare, "How would you know, you were passed out next to a bottle the whole time." I hiss back at him, twisting my knife to create a hole before yanking it out. He rolls his eyes, leaning back in a chair, "Ohh, you're so scary with your knife, I'm just trembling."

I launch forward, pinning the knife to his neck, "Say something else, I dare you!" I scream, my brother and sister watching in horror as my father pushes away the knife and drags himself away, "All you've ever been was a disappointment," he called back to me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Date: October 3****rd**

**Date of reaping: October 26****th**

"Cato!" My mother called to me, "Could you help me out in the kitchen, I need a pair of hands." I nod, having seen my younger siblings flee from the kitchen a few minutes earlier, not wanting to be caught up in the clang and crash of the dishes as every thing was slowly put away. Yes, it was a slow night, ones that began to happen during training when everyone was trying to make the district look the best it could for when the Capitol cameras came out. All the men were caught up in a mine after hours, while the rest of the district was beautifying, getting in final training, or staying out of each others way. The District had a reputation that the Capitol expected us to keep, and in hopes of having a victor, district two made a good impression.

"I have to get to training soon," I tell her as I pick up an old rag, scrubbing any left over grime off of a chipped plate before setting it in a tub of warm water, letting it get a final rinse before drying it and putting it away.

"But it's getting late, the sun is going to go down soon," she pointed out, though she knew very well that night training was starting.

This was the height of the training period, where 30 possible tributes, along with a couple younger and more inexperienced contestants, were plucked from pool of trainees to go out in a densely wooded around of about 3 square miles, a section of land referred to as the "District Arena," and survive the night as if we were in The Hunger Games. After the Barbed wire Fence was closed for the night, from sun fall to rise, no one got in, and no one got out. Though the night training was great for getting into the groove of the games, it was a bit over played. The center offered real weapons to the tributes in the initial cornucopia, and through out the night, generally at least five people either died or were injured. Either out of hatred for someone, or to show that they were truly ready to become a victor in the games, either way it was an unfortunate end to lives, though no one would ever say so.

"You know I have to go to night training, mom." I remind her patiently, though her strong face reveled a worried look, "I'll be safe," I assure her as I wipe down another plate, "I promise." She simply nodded; knowing I had done it the year before and nothing bad had come to me, so she was comforted. I glance out side, seeing the sun getting closer to the horizon, "I should get going," I inform her with a confident smile, trying to show her that I was brave enough to survive anything that the District of the capitol, or even Clove threw at me, and would take it as a soldier, a

Tribute, a victor.

20 Minutes Later

Center of The District Arena

5 minutes to Sundown

"You guys are the finalists from each age group," A man nicknamed a Chains informs us, crossing his arms as he takes a quick look over up, as if he was inspecting pigs for the slaughter. "You know the rules, now you need to know how to survive. Tonight is not about killing each other; we are confidant that you can. Tonight is simply about living off of supplies that you can get your hands on…" he trails off, looking up at the sky, counting down the seconds until he start his 60 second down. He smirks, "Get on your marks," He tells the lot of us, leading us into a clearing, a circle that surrounded a small stone cornucopia, an array of back packs lying in the center. No Weapons, no swords, but backpacks. "60…59…"

I quickly glance around, easily finding clove standing on her mark. She had a look on her face, maybe a sort of determination mixed with resentment, but it was something that scared me. Her eye had faded to having a grey hue to the outside laid out, though it splotched with purple and yellow around the corners. She was still beautiful. But no, she was Clove, the enemy, were didn't talk anymore, and I didn't care…right?

"29…28…"

I needed to get my mind off of her. The back packs in the center, my eyes land on one that's closest to me, _perfect,_ I'll get that one and head for the hill, setting up a camp in a place where I can see around myself, this isn't about surviving with the careers, this is about keeping my self alive if the others die during the bloodbath.

"15…14…"

This is it. I glance around the circle, Archer standing among the others with a sinister look on his face; I know what he's thinking. He's in this to kill, even if we are of his district. He wants the blood on his hands. Archer wants to be feared, looked at like a god, prayed to out of respect…or fear…or a little of both.

"10…9…8…7…6"

The last seconds I count to myself, although I hear Chains slowly back out of the closure and to the other side of a fence while getting to the final moments, my head seems to cloud a bit, as if I am beginning to go deaf to the world around me, and I begin to whisper to myself.

"3…2…1…RUN!"

I hear a loud whistle echo ripple through the air, causing my head to clear as I sprint forward, hooking to back packs on my arm as I see Clove disappear in the Forest with a back pack, Archer on her tail blood already covering his hands. I take a split second to turn; a sobbing female counterpart revives seeing a bloody body of a 12 year old fighting to stay alive. "Run Cato, save Clove." I remind myself, though I know she is fine as I take off through the forest. She's faster than Archer, and lighter, knowing her way around woods better than anyone I know.

I see her by the river, alone. "Loose your friend?" I muse to her as I set down my backpacks next to her and lay out my supplies. A couple bags of food, a bottle of water, a few blankets, enough to survive comfortably. She shoots me a glare, I know her well enough to have known that she hasn't forgiven me yet. "I'm sorry about everything I said." I inform her calmly, taking a small bite of beef jerky, glad to see her loosen up a bit, "I know that your strong, stronger than most of us actually. Allies for tonight?"

"I lost Archer about a quarter of a mile back, being able to slip through a small gap in the trees after he had tripped over a tree root. As for yourself, you're still an asshole, but you have food, so just until we're let out of here, than I never speak to you again," she informs me in a monotone voice, the Clove that every seems to know, though it's comforting to me to know that she is able to talk to me. "I saw a good place for camp up ahead," She stated as she dropped an iodine tablet into her recently filled bottle of water, beckoning me along as she gathered her things up into a back pack, and pulling out a small candle, lighting it with a match and leading me forward, covering her flame with her hand so the only light cast was shining on her feet as she counted her steps until reaching #316, when she took he hand away from the candle, allowing enough light to see the outline of a small, oval shaped clearing, about 10 feet wide at its smallest, 20 feet at its largest.

"This will work," I confirm as I make my way forwards, getting to the center and kneeling down, gathering a handful of crunchy leaves and crumbling them, making a satisfying crunch. "Surround the out side with dry leaves," I say quietly, though loud enough for her to hear it. Clove raises an eye brow in confusion, "we'll be able to hear if anyone steps in, we can barely see anything right now any ways," I tell her, "and blow the candle out." I whisper back, trying to make it as much like the hunger games as possible as I begin to coat the outer feet of the circle in dried leaves that hadn't become soggy from dew or rain.

"Cato?" I hear clove whisper to me as I finish laying the leaves down. I quickly turn, laying down the blankets down on a tarp that she had retrieved from her backpack, making no indication that I had heard her. "Cato," She said a bit louder, causing me to look up in her general direction, "We should take turns on watch or sleeping." She tells me with a sure nod.

I open my mouth to say something, yet in place, I hear a blood-curing scream. "Archer," Clove and I say in sync, turning to her I freeze, wondering if I should go help the child, or let the victim die by Archers selfish hands. The scream is suddenly cut. Whoever it was is dead. "Get some sleep." Clove orders me, pointing to the pile of blankets, sure of herself and what she was doing, not hesitating to think of getting sleep herself. I nod, laying down and falling asleep instantly.

_I knew it was a dream. Everything was light, Clove was laying next to the pond in a white sundress, and her hair falling behind her in loose curls. She was beautiful. Not her normal beauty. She didn't look dangerous, it was an innocent beauty, like she was free, didn't have to worry about The Hunger Games or The Capitols control over her family. Though I envied her home at times, She lived under the pressure of a victor and a team of stylists. _

_Hey eyes told me to lay with her, and I obliged, laying back in the dirt with her, looking up at the clear blue sky that swam over District 2. No one said anything, though it was perfect. It seemed like there was music playing behind us. Was this real, or not. No, it's a dream, but a good one._

_Until I heard the scream._

"Clove?" I jerk upright, knowing it's her screaming. I jump up, seeing the outline of a large body, holding her up by the neck.

"Look who decided to wake up," I here a familiar voice hiss to me. Archer. His voice shows that he's smiling, happy about what he could do next.

"What are you going to do, kill us?" I ask, crossing my arms as he drops Clove to the ground, her breath heavy as she grasps her throat. I cringe; though keep a hard stare at him, practicing my skills of intimidation.

"No, no, no." He chuckles, "This is just a warning, to never cross me again, or you, and your little girlfriend will be gone before anyone notices, and I'll simply tell them that I have no idea what happened." He spat with a satanic chuckle. "May the odds ever be in your favor." He hisses as he walks away, his laughter following his train and disappearing into the night air along with his sound.

"Clove!" I breathe, running to her side as she gets up from the ground, clearly not hurt, just shaken. "Are you okay?" I ask helping her over to the blankets and laying her down.

"I'm fine," she croaked, letting out a soft wheeze and a small smirk while pushing my hands off of her.

"I'm on the next shift." I inform her as I sit where she was previously, not allowing myself to be budged by anything that came near. She nodded, laying her head on the tarp in rest, falling asleep easily.

There are no interruptions through the night. A couple leaves crack as an unknown peer runs through and by the area, but nothing interrupts the night. Clove sleeps soundly, not budging when I look over my shoulder to check on her, make sure she's ok. I felt protective over her, something more that how I usually felt over her, like it was my responsibility to keep her safe, no matter what. I would, I had to, and that was it.

"Clove," I say loud enough to wake her up, nudging her for effect. She sleepily rolls over, leaning up with an annoyed look as if to say, "what the hell do you want." I chuckle, seeing her hair in a mess and he clothing wrinkled. "The sun's coming up." I tell her with a smile, offering her my larger hand as I pull her up, "So it's time to go."

And with that, the two of us walk back to the center of the arena, in time to hear the metal door creak open, letting us out.


	4. Chapter 4

Date: October 19th

Date: October 26th

I could hear the fuss of Florus, my fathers' stylist who always seemed to smell of Jasmine and Lavender. I wasn't surprised how clearly I could hear her shrill voice echo through our home, she had always had a…"talent," of a voice that carries. She was obviously upset about my fathers' inability to upkeep any sort of cleanliness, state of sobriety, or common knowledge of looking presentable as a victor. In his mind, he had done his work, and he was done.

Through the house, the only noise to be heard was the clanging of odd Capitol gear, and my fathers' hung over hands knocking over a vase while being unaware of his surrounding, met by a groan by someone of Florus' team. I needed to get out of the house. It was loud, more so than before. And the camera crews would be hear in the next week to shoot footage of the Victors for some Pre-Hunger Games excitement. They would ask how they think the possible tributes would lineup this year, how the chances looked for a victor. They would bother families of the Victors, asking for the latest and greatest gossip on the who's who in the victor circle, an interview that I had managed to miss for my entire life.

I changed quickly, noting that my entire closet had been replaced with more capitol brand clothing, so I chose a training uniform that I hid under my bed along with a pair of newer training boots that made a small squeak as I ran down the stairs to be greeted with a scream of horror from a tall, thin woman named Eden. A women who looks to be in her 20's, but is probably somewhere in her 50s, whose skin had a tint of blue and with hair of a dark purple that always stayed tied up in a tight bun. "Clover!" She shrieked, dropping the pair of scissors she was using. "Your clothing! Haven't you seen your new wardrobe!"? The rest of the team looked over my clothing, some gasped, the others with a look of horror. Florus looked at me, he light eyes flicking over my eyes with shadows of disappointment, by her look, I knew that she saw the slight remainder of a gray bruise around my eye, thinking about how to cover it.

"I'm going to go out for a little bit, I'll be back later," I promised my mother, not giving my father the time of day. The room looked back at me, still deadly silent after Eden had screeched in the name of fashion, but as I shut the door behind me, I could hear my dad slur a request for a drink, and the team start to make him, and our home look lovely again.

Outside, the day seemed more peaceful. I grab a hallowed rock from the bushes, tucking a knife that lay inside in a pocket that hid in the lining of my boot before looking back up. A lone man swept the empty streets of the expanding victors circle, the only noise heard around us was the sound of stylists running in and out of the house, grabbing something they may have left lying around, this was the only time in the year that the birds weren't chirping. It was nice weather for October, at least comparing to last week when the entire District had been hammered with rain, hail, and lightning, a couple houses catching on fire after being struck, none from the victor's circle.

I could hear the heel of my boot make a soft click against the ground as I made my way towards the pond in the trees. It was ghostly, a noise against a white wall of silence that rose as I entered the Square of District 2, where I will come in a week for the reaping. It's a slow business day. Shop keepers mill around their stores, tidying up and keeping dust from settling. Men are in the mines, and children are at home or in training, and any squeals of excitement have been blocked out as I tune away from the sound of the district, and into the safety of my own mind, a place where no one can hurt me, a place away from the games.

I shouldn't be surprised that he's next to the pond, sitting next to the rock where I usually am, he had sat there every day after the HG night simulation, only going into training after the sun went down, when everyone had left. Cato was silent, as if he were thinking deeply. I had seen him here every day, yet never approached. Had he been waiting for me? Or was he trying to get away from the district without escaping the district limits? Either way, I left the thicket of trees and sat down across from him, not saying a word, merely taking off my shoes and dipping my feet into the warm water, heated by the furnace of a mine that lay below it.

He throws a rock into the pond at an angle, which makes it skid across the surface in small jumps before it drops to the bottom with a soft splash, breaking the silence we had created.

Cato is calm as he looks up to me. He looks innocent, not like the killer he has been raised to be. "You're here." He points out with a small smirk, receiving a small nod from myself, confirming it. I look down painting words into the wet mud at our feet. "Are you nervous?" He asks, standing up and walking over to me, sliding onto a rock next to where I am.

I shrug, aren't we all nervous, no matter how many times the victors have come from district 2, we are always shaking in our shoes about reaping day. I'm 16, Cato's 17, his name is in there 12 times, due to him needing a couple tesseraes for his family, mine in there a mere 5 times. Even with that man slips of paper, we are among the child population of 3,000 that live in district two, and of that many, we have a select group that can volunteer for other, less experienced kids if we care to, though if any of us that participated in the overnight get chosen, there is no volunteering.

He nods, I think about asking him the same, but I already know. He's not scared of everything; he could stay strong with a strong glare when faced against a whip in the square with a death sentence. His life style threatens that consequence. He has stolen food before when his family was going through a rough time. He's the poor boy with something to life for, but the one that everyone is scared of. His strength, his mind, his sadistic personality, it intimidates the others. Cato's the bravest person I know, and it allows me to lean against his shoulder in comfort.

**Cato's POV**

I've waited here for her for the past few weeks. Maybe I just wanted to see her and be with her after the simulation, or maybe it was my realization of how I felt about her. No, I couldn't. I can't be in love with her, but I can't love anyone. I have to be a killer, ruthless; love will make one weaken at the knees, easily broken. I can't love anyone, but as she lays her hear back on me, I feel her muscles relax, he soft hair dropping across my chest, her frame so small compared to mine. I know that I can't live without her.

I chuckle at her bravery, she would never directly admit that she's afraid of what will happen at the reaping, not Clove. The small girl that I know is too head strong, to sure and determined to make her father proud to ever show a sign of breaking. The only time I saw her ever remotely upset or showing weakness was during the 68th games when her cousin died in the games. He was 17 when it happened, and she would never speak of it.

"You could win," she says with a smirk, "You're strong and fast, and if you get your hands on a sword nothing could stop you." I chuckle in return, "Not if they have a bow and arrow." I remind her quickly, leaning back on a tree that sits behind us. "Any ways, you never know what the capitol will think of next, game makers favor some over others, and they can make sure that some win." I shrug, no matter how much we put into training for the game, as soon as you hit the arena floor, there are not rules, and the capitol likes a good show.

"You would get sponsors," she says confidently, looking ahead on herself as I scoff to myself, "What?" she questions as I begin to protest against it with a smile. "You would be part of the careers, you're strong, you'd get a high training score, an idiot wouldn't sponsor you." She tells me defensively, though is able to shrug it off. "Just forget it, let's hope neither of us have to go in." she says with a nod, but I know that one of us will have to, I can feel in coursing through my veins, one of us will be in the hunger games.

"How's your house been?" I ask her, obviously trying the change the topic, but knowing she would want to rant about what the stylists are doing know. I wouldn't know what it's like in her spot, the only home I've ever know has been in a small home is a poor part of the district, ironically called "The Platinum Belt" because of the bounty of minerals dug up there in the dark days. I think I was happier than Clove in some way; she lived unhappily in luxury, while I lived in a loving, supportive environment in poverty.

"Florus is insane, and her followers have had way to much hair die seep into their skulls, I swear, those people know about as much as a rock…accumulatively." She huffs, her hand tightening around a clump of grass that she had ripped up from the ground. "I swear, if any one of those people tell me about my wardrobe, I am going to kill one of them, it will be good practice." She hisses through her teeth, taking deep breaths as the dirt crumbles out of her hand.

I chuckle in response, "They'll be gone in a week." Though I know it's no comfort, they'll be back next year, and the year after that, and every single year that follows. Even after Clove's father passes, they will come back to interview the family, pay their grievances. Most girls would love this life style, but not Clove, the attention, the fashion; it's too much for her.

I hear her breath deeply and watch as she closes her eyes, would she ever fall for me? All I could ever do was make people fear me. They tell us in training that we will bring honor to the district, but we are nothing more than pawns in the capitol's game. They manipulate us into murderers, and for what? The glory of having killed children, people that were like you. We succumb to the games in district two, hunting people off like a sport, and we enjoy it.

"Would you ever volunteer?" she asks me, opening one eye and looking up at me as I shrug. "Maybe, it depends who is chosen." I lie. If I'm not chosen this year, I'm going to go into the games next year. I want to. It's sadistic, I know. But I want to give my family the money and a good home, and I could live next to Clove, and we would live a good life.

But those dreams are impossible, aren't most dreams that way. Something that could never happen, in Panem, people don't live happily ever after, they can die in sorrow and poverty, while the victors die drunk in bad memories, and Capitol citizens live in joy watching our neighbors children die.

"CLOVE!" I hear a capitol accent screech, causing Clove's head to shoot up, now alert of her surroundings. "YOU NEED TO BE FITTED FOR REAPING!" the same voice shouts, obviously no sure where we are, even if she is out in this area.

"Ambrosia…" she whispers before looking back up at me, "I have to go," she responds, standing up and screaming, "COMING!" She quickly brushes the dirt off her clothing before beginning to run into the trees towards the square, but she looks back before disappearing, "See you at the reaping."

Sorry it took so long to get the next chapter up, I'll try to make it a nightly thing at this point. The next chapter is the reaping! Thanks for sticking around while I was in DC


	5. Chapter 5

Date: October 26th, reaping day

_Note there will be many POV switches in this chapter_

**Clove's POV:**

Today's the day, I can tell mainly from Oren and Azalie screaming and running down the halls as my mother attempts to get the to settle so that they can eat and get changed. Because all the reapings occur over the span day, districts 1-6 will be reaped today, district 2 has to all be gathered in the square by 10:00. It was already 8:30. I swing my legs over the side of my bed as my mother manages to corner the two balls of energy, stopping the never-ending game that they played, even if their names were only in the pool once, I worried, it was their first year, and the capitol played an unfair game. "Clover!" My mother shouts from the kitchen, "Florus left you a dress in the den, come put it on please, Ambrosia is still here to make your hair look nice." She informs me loudly. By now I know that my father is already in the square with the other victors, probably drinking more than he should as his stylist team follows him around, brushing any speck of dust off him that they see before the reaping officially starts.

I meander down the staircase slowly, hearing the third stair from the bottom eerily moan as I jump onto it, making me smile. It was reliable, in a world of uncertainty, you will always know that if you jump on the right spot, you will always hear the same groan from that stair, never changing, no matter how many times you land. I glance at the couch in the den with a sigh of relief. She didn't do anything insane, it's a simple white lace dress that ends about 5 inches high of the knee. Somehow it's sane of her. At least, compared to what it could've been. She could've put together a dress of feathers, or whatever crap is currently in style back in the capitol, but surprisingly, this woman was able to recognize something simple, and turn it into something beautiful. I admired the woman, even if I did hate her. She was smart and creative, after all, she had to make my father look go, she's ought to know something about style tips of something along those style lines that give her inspiration for something truly simple.

I change quickly, knowing my mother will hurry us the square early so we will have plenty of time to sign in and prepare ourselves for who the next victims will be. Tonight there will be a party in the district; all but the two unlucky families will be there. Ambrosia approaches me with caution, knowing that the previous time she tried to do my hair she was left with a broken rib and a black eye. "I promise I won't kill you if I look decent." I tell her with a sadistic grin to make her uneasy as she carefully combs my hair back, transforming it into a messy braid that runs down my shoulder, something that looks surprisingly good from the glance I got of it before she blocked the view I got of it when she moved to start doing my make up. She was a talented woman; I'll give her that. She's worked on my father for years at this point, so she isn't completely useless. If she can handle the mess of him, I respect her, and giving her make up made her an artist.

"9:00!" my mother sings out as I stand, finally being able to balance in comfort in a pair of capitol issue heels that Florus had brought for me, the heel made entirely of what looked like a stone that had broken away from a larger version of itself. I don't know why I was being so…pleasant towards the stylists today. Maybe it was because I was so glad that I wouldn't have to see them after today, or maybe it was just the fact that I was tired because of training and after today, it was simple, or maybe today was so filled with loss, kindness was a virtue today.

Oren and Azalie present themselves in a shy way, trying to show a small smile, but it's obvious that the truth of what today is has sunk into their minds, they don't want to be chosen. I can't blame them for being this scared, they've watched the games for their entire lives, and their refusal to go to training has left them defenseless towards a District 1 Career that would have no problem killing them. "You're not going to get chosen, I promise," I tell them with a small smile, hoping to assure them that they are safe, but in reality, I can only protect Azalie from that fate, Oren is defenseless against this fate without an older brother. "You two look very nice." I say with a smile, trying to distract them from the possible outcome of today as I walk them towards the kitchen. They look innocent, as most 12 year olds do. Oren suits up in a nice pair of slacks and a clean button down shirt with a blazer, while Azalie reflects the same colors as him, yet wearing a dress with thick white stockings. I nod, "we should get going." I tell my mom quickly.

As we walk out the door, my mother stops me, "Don't do anything stupid." She tells me with a timid smile. "After Bernard Died…" She starts, making me shiver at the name of my cousin who had been killed in the games at only 17, Cato's age. I nod to her, trying to make her believe that the family would not have to go through another loss, but not even I could say that would happen in the end. There can only be one winner of the hunger games, and If I went in, I'd try to make it me.

She checks her watch again, "9:30!" She screams, pushing me forward, "go, you can't be late!" she squeals as I regain my balance and make my way towards the square quickly, easily hearing the noise made the chattering potential tributes from the victors village, and at this point I realize, I'm scared. Terrified actually, not for myself, but for all the other children in the games. I line up in the girls line to sign in, taking a deep breath as I gather myself, but I know this is it, at least one District 2 citizen is going to die in the next few weeks, and I can't do anything about it. I may have trained with them, but no one would care, the capitol wants a good show, and that's all, no matter how many families they break, people they scar, or lives they ruin, this is a monsters game that we all play in, shoved into the drawing pot at the age of twelve. I'm angry, tensed by the time I reach the front of the line behind Azalie as they prick our fingers for blood. Another year, held against our will, forced to cheer for scared murderers.

**Cato's POV**

Today's the day. It's when we are reaped. I wonder if the odds will be in my favor today, but no one ever really knows for sure. Of course I have a greater chance of being chosen than someone like Clove, but among thousands of other slips of paper, my chances of being chosen are so tiny. But even to that extent, there is no way to predict the outcome of today. Who is chosen, who will be lucky enough to represent, and maybe even bring honor to District 2 in the 74th annual hunger games?

I roll out of bed slowly, pulling on a pair of nice jeans and a white button up shirt that is neat enough. Looking into the reflection I see someone stronger than the year before, I reflect as a tribute, as a champion, a true victor. I smile to myself, feeling a sense of pride course through my veins as I bush my hair back, slicking it out of my face with some of my father's old hair gel, making it shine in the morning light. "How long until reaping?" I call into the house, waiting for any of the 5 siblings or 2 parents to answer. "Forty minutes!" I hear a younger voice call out, a voice that belongs to my youngest sister of 7, Ramona. "Thank you," I call back as I lace up a pair of nice black shoes and walk into the kitchen, greeted with an "ooh" of approval from my mother who runs towards me quickly, her heels clicking against the ground rapidly. She paces around me, smoothing away imperfections in my shirt along with fly-aways in my hair, finishing with a sigh of content before nodding to herself and taking a small step back.

"My little boy is all grown up." She sniffles, placing a light hand on my shoulder as she repeats the words in a hushed tone, reminding herself that I could be sent to the capitol today. "Time to go." She says quickly, whipping her head up as she gathers the 4 of us in the reaping pool together. "Now remember kids, stick with Cato until you finish check in, and then head to your sections, I'll be heading over with Dad, Ramona, and Kay in 10 minutes so that we can see the podium clearly. She turns to me with a small smile before pulling me aside. "You keep them close and safe, you hear me, but I want you hear for dinner tonight, Daddy still has to work late in the mines and I need a man in this house, you hear me?" she asks, holding my hand, her eyes innocent, but filled with fear of losing her eldest son. "You look great, and I'll see you soon," she tells me with a smile of reassurance before giving me a light shove to the door, an obvious reminder to get me going with my younger siblings, all with tesseraes.

"Let's move Sommors!" I shout to my siblings as they start to get distracted, patting Kay on the head as I pass by. "See you guys later!" I call with a smile as I heard my other siblings out the door, through their district 2 eyes, I see a mixed emotion of artificial courage and true fear, something common you the first and second years. "You guys will be fine." I promise with a small smile, ruffling my youngest bother, Mick's hair with a smirk, patting him on the back as we continue, my muscles relaxing as the square approaches.

I turn to the two girls trailing behind me, "Luna, Whinn, I need you two to wait in the girls line, and then go to the very last roped off sections, Whinn, go where the thirteen year olds are standing, and Luna, Stand right behind her, where your friend Zellian is standing. Remember that neither of you talk or joke around until it's over, ok….ok?" I ask, speaking very quickly, glancing between them with a smile. "I'll see you both soon, ok?" I say with a small smile, "Go get in line before it gets to long." I tell them before returning to the fast moving line with my brother, getting my finger pricked quickly before shoving my younger brothers off to where they need to be, and dragging myself up to the second section gated off, the 17 year olds, conveniently standing right next to Archer. I take a deep breath, not even bothering to glance at him, knowing by nature I would punch him in the face or kick him where the sun don't shine if he even took a breath to make a remark, and he sees that, letting out a satisfied air while crossing his arms.

**Clove's POV**

"Welcome, Welcome!" A high pitched Capitol voice sings into the microphone, one that can only belong to a woman named Valentine Cane, the woman that has visited our district every year for the past 10 or so years to reap the tributes from district two. She must be about 30 years old at this point though it's impossible to know under the thick layer of Capitol white make up that's spread over her face like frosting on one of the wedding cakes that sits a couple hundred yards behind us. Her lips have been reformed into the shape of a heart, at least, somewhat that shape, she mainly paints over them in a bright red lipstick that outlines a heart shape to them, most of her make up going back to her name, "Valentine." I roll my eyes as she straightens out her typical outlandish capitol brand dress which ruffles at the neck like a 17th centaury royalty dress, although cuts short up on her stocking covered legs. "Before we get to the main event of today," she says with an artificial smile, rubbing her hands together creepily. "We have a film all the way from the capitol!

Of course it's the same film as the year before, telling us the old story of when a place called North America fell, and Panem rose from the ashes, with thirteen districts that were all controlled by the Capitol, but due to unhappy citizens, a revolution began. The Capitol defeated the first twelve, and destroyed the thirteenth, leaving nothing but ashes behind. Upon surviving through the Revolution, the Hunger Games began, and so each district must offer up one female and male tribute between the ages of 12-18 to fight to the death, reminding us how easily we are killed.

The film ends in a rage of crackling and popping, Valentine returning to the center of the stage. "Now, before we begin, I would like to present 15 of District two's past victors, a small amount of the past victors in District two, unfortunately the others aren't available for commentary." She says as a joke, though the status of our dead victors is taken flat by the lot of us. "Anyways," she huffs, "If any of the victors would like to speak now, I leave the mike open to them." She says, stepping away from the stand, waiting for movement.

My father steps forward, clearly in a drunk state by the way he's wobbling back and fourth, "We better have a winner this year," He slurs, glancing around as if he left a drink somewhere, "Though I doubt any of you pansies would last in the games." He spits, getting angry, "W….Why do we cheer for death, it's really fun to kill a 12 year old, getting out there and seeing what monsters we are." He chuckles to himself, "Happy hunger games, and let the odds always be in your favor, because this is what you were born to do."

My father hobbles back to his seat, followed by the other past victors, all shaking their heads and murmuring back and fourth, sitting slowly and leaning back in their chairs waiting to get this over with, all getting impatient with Valentine's stalling. "As always," her capitol accent peeps, "Ladies first." Her frame makes it's way to a large fish bowl that is fancily labeled "Ladies." She swishes her hand around the top of the names, ruffling the top of the papers slowly before catching one from the top of the pile, returning to her space and reading clearly, "Clover Marcotte."

My breath catches as dozens of eyes turn on me, a sob streams off my mother's lips and into the crowd as I take a slow step into the pathway that's been made for me, to peace keeper appearing at my side and escorting me down in case I decide to run away. I climb the white marble staircase slowly, appearing strong as I stand against the October wind in front of a speechless crowd. I see my little sister in the back, sobbing against her friend while looking up at me. Valentine looks back at my father, "Would you be the daughter of the Victor, Vitus Marcotte?" I nod slowly, not breaking a stare with the audience for anyone. "That…that's my baby girl." My father chokes out, something that surprises me. He's never be choked up in me, upset by something happening to me, but here he starts blubbering on how I can't be chosen. I take a breath giving Valentine a look that says, "Can we get this thing going, I don't want to be here." She walks to the other bowl, picking up a paper and choking, "Oren Marcotte," before Oren moves, a voice shouts, "I volunteer!"

**Cato's POV**

I volunteered, out of the spur of the moment I screamed out the sacrifice that I would make for the girl I know in the training center, the one threatening others with butter knives when she was five for stealing her cookie, the one I learned to love. I take a slow step forward, hearing Luna scream, "CATO!" from the back, but I know that Whinn will catch her before she tries to run to the front. I make my way up the stairs quickly, looking down over the audience before glaring into the camera that is focused on myself, sending hatred through the viewers, and making me easily a favorite for gifts in the game. "What's your name," Valentine says, nudging me in the ribs with the energy of a child, "Cato, Cato Sommors" I reply quickly, crossing my eyes, not glancing over at Clove, knowing she would think I'm the dumbest person in the world, but if I hadn't I know that Archer would've, and I can't live with him fighting alongside Clove, someone he would kill after earning her trust. "Well," Valentine states after a moment, "Your district two Tributes, Clover Marcotte, and Cato Sommors."

The woman guides us back into the justice building, pushing Clove into a different room than I and telling us to say our goodbyes as Family members come in to greet us, this is the time where people cry, at least, that's what I was told by Clove's father during a visit. "You have 5 minutes." A voice says at the door before opening it, my mother, father, and siblings rushing in, all embracing me in tears, even my father, who wouldn't show emotion if a horse kicked him in the face, has small tears running down his blocky cheeks.

"You idiot!" My mother says, "I told you not to go it, I told you!" She screams, collapsing into my fathers arm, her body shaking in a fit of tears and shaking as my father wraps his arms around her, looking at me sadly, but a look that tells me that he trusts me. I feel a small tug at my sleeve, the only one not choking on tears or unable to speak is Ramona, who looks up at me with a small smile as she hugs my leg, "You're going to come back after the game right?" she asks innocently, not understanding what the games are at her young age. "Only if I win," I respond carefully. "Well," she says quickly, "Win, but don't cheat, and make sure to never give up!" She says with a smile. "Time's up!" The guard shouts from the door way. "NO!" Luna screams, hugging me one last time as the peace keepers drag my family one by one, and my father quickly drags me to the side. "Win, I know you can, just show them you're stronger than the capitol, be change." He whispers, hugging me tightly until he is dragged away harshly.

I hear the same 5 minute warning, but this time, a healthy face comes through the door, Clove's mother, tear drenched, obviously having seen Clove already. "Mrs. Marcotte?" I ask in a confused tone, raising an eye brow in confusion. She shakes her head, "You're showing confusion, straighten up." She demands, looking me straight in the eye with the same look that Clove gives me when she is thinking. She nods slowly, "You're stronger than the others, strong enough to protect Clove, and please keep her safe as long as you can." She whispers in a worried tone as I nod as it to seal the promise. "You can win, I just want you to be sure that you are able to not let being a career overcome your influence on the game. The game makers naturally love careers, use it to your advantage." She advises with a nod, looking up at me taking a deep breath, "And thank you, for saving Oren, he wouldn't have made it." She tells me with a heavy sigh. "Times up!" The voice yells, sending in a peacekeeper, "good luck!" she shouts as she's leaving, though I'm confused as to why she even visited.

I wait for a bout ten more minutes until the guard speaks again, saying it's the last visitor, and how they have 5 minutes. Who's left, my family has visited, a couple of old friends have circulated in and out, telling me to show them what district two is meant to say, but for the most part, everyone's been covered. The door creaks open, entering Archer, swinging his hips with a smile, rather than his general smirk. "That took some balls, but I have to say that I was going to be the one in your seat, but you were faster, I can wait until next year, no problem for me." He said with a chuckle, flexing his arms in a comedic way while leaning against the wall as I stand up and walk to be about a foot away from him. "Listen," he huffs, turning serious, "I just wanted to say that no matter how much we hate each other, good luck out there…and even though she doesn't need it, keep Clove safe. All I said in the ring, that was all to make you angry, just please, get one of you home, district two needs another victor, and if anyone's to do it, it's one of you." He said with a chuckle, "Anyways, you have the mentality to be a career." I quickly punch him in the face, anger in my eyes at the comment, I'm not a monster, am I? "Woah, man!" he shouts, his left arm swinging up to his nose. "Listen man, just know I'm…sorry? For the ass I've been, try not to get killed, ok?" he says with a nod, offering me his hand, and I accept, shaking his hand with a nod, it's to late for a grudge as they pull him away.

**Clove's POV**

My mother is the first to run through the doors, picking me up in her arms. It's only us in the room, Oren and Azalie are probably waiting outside until they get their turn. My father will be on the train, drowning in the smell of beer by the time I board. "I'm so sorry." My mother weeps into my shoulder, hugging me tighter with each sob, wrapping around me like a boa constrictor. I smile weakly, isn't she supposed to be comforting me right now? No, my dad will have time for that attempt on the train.

"Mom," I whisper, causing her to look me in the eye, "I'll be fine, I promise," I reassure her with a fading smile, all hope drained from my face. "My brave baby girl, you never have been afraid of anything, have you?" she says with a chuckle, "Remember to slice, not stab, it drains the blood faster, and they die a less painful death, try to keep any humanity that you have." She says, running a tender hand down my face, and remember that I love you. "Time's up!" A gruff voice calls, a peacekeeper quickly pulling her away, crying.

My siblings are the next to run in, at 12 years old, I'm sure they don't fully understand what's going on, but they understand enough to know I could be killed in the week after this coming one, and this will be our last interaction. "Will you sing for us?" my brother asks, my sister shaking her head in a nod to agree. I sigh, and slowly begin singing a song called the hanging tree. One that had slowly woven its way down to district two from district 11 or 12, but it's meaning all the same to us humans.

"Are you, are you, coming to the tree, where they strung up a man they say murdered three? Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it seem, if we met up at midnight in the hanging tree." I sing slowly, sitting against the wall with my siblings resting on my lap. They don't understand the song, but I've come to understand it as I sing through the verses slowly. I near the end quickly, "Are you, are you, coming to the tree, wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me...Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it seem, if we met up at midnight in the hanging tree." Azalie and Oren have tears rolling down their cheeks as I finish, and they drape their arms around my neck, their small bodies trembling among breaks of sobs, telling me that I can't leave, and how I have to win, win for them and for the family, to come back and be here with them. "I promise," I lie to them, unable to really say that I will come back to them, but I promise them. "Times up." I stand as they leave, "I love you!" the door slams in response.


	6. Chapter 6

I'm sorry that it's so short! I think I'm going to stop posting on fanfic, and start going off tumblr, below is the link. If you don't like that idea, message me on tumblr telling me to come back

breaking-fanfics . tumblr . com

Get rid of the spaces

Clove's POV:

It's been 48 hours since the reaping, but due to all the reapings taking place at different times, and the capitol insisting that we all arrive at the same time, we have to postpone until a time when all the tributes are reaped, and can be boarded at times appropriate for a simultaneous arrival. "10 more minutes!" Valentine Chirps while looking out the window before spinning around, sending her outlandish pick wig off center, I chuckle to my self, but receiving a glance from Cato, I know that I should shut up. "Now," she starts, "Once you step off this train, the games officially begin. You're not fighting yet, but you need to win love and fear from the audience, gain supporters and most importantly, sponsors." she nods to us, fear will be in your favor," she tells us with a disgusted look and an off voice before facing our small bunch of mentors, every so often glancing back at us as if we had disappeared or left, not that there would be anywhere to get off this speeding train hurdling us towards our unavoidable death.

"Cato," I hiss, pulling the taller boy out of the room with me when no one was looking. He glances down at me once the door shuts. His expression is blank, though his eyes still hold that life that he held back home. We hadn't talked since reaping, actually, we had avoided each other for the most part. Maybe it was because we didn't accept that we were the tributes chosen for the 74th annual Hunger Games, or maybe it was that we were the last life of District two that we would ever see. Whatever the reason, we weren't exactly drawn to each other. I can't handle that woman," I sigh, walking towards the back of the compartment we are in, he chuckles, following me, "well, you only have to out up with him for another week, and then we're away from her…for awhile." he says, awkwardly diverging from the fact that one of us will be dying relatively soon.

"Listen, Clove," he says with a sigh, beckoning me over to him, "I've loved you for…a long time," he starts, "We'll get out of the arena together, or not at all, ok?" he asks me, running a carful finger over my cheek, pushing a long hair out of my face. Before kissing the same spot quickly. "We should probably go now," he says, leaving before I have a chance to say anything. I know a deep red blush is spreading across my cheeks, but I quickly shake it off as I leave the room. The fact of the matter is, no matter what I feel about Cato, I can never let the crowd know, so let it play as a secret, after all, who knows what happens in the hunger games.

Cato's POV:

Clove enters the room a moment before we stop at the station. I can't help but thinking it was a dumb idea to tell Clove how I felt, knowing I would have to completely ignore that fact now that training week was beginning, but we would have moments. "Smile." Valentine hisses at be as the door opens, and I flash a heart throb smile to the audience, seeing a couple girls swoon from behind barriers set up by capitol officers sent to keep us unscathed. Clove walks right next to me, obviously not going for a heartwarming vibe, or sending any love to the audience. She has a cold look on her face, like she wanted to kill everyone in the audience, but the crowd loved it, more than loved it, consumed us. A couple paces in front of us are the District One tributes, and girl taller than Clove by about 5 inches, and long blonde hair, standing next to a boy about my height with a dopey grin. and behind be are the district three tributes, a girl with dead, brown eyes, and a boy with a strong glare and black hair. I try to look further back, but I can only catch glimpses. Flaming red hair, olive skin, larger eyes, all a blur of people.

The Capitol is so….clean, making a clean room in District two look like a dump. Everything here is perfectly whitened, bleached from life. The floors sparkle as if they are new, and despite the mass of people gathered here, the entire place has a strong spell of roses…and….blood? Maybe a Capitol thing but, still weird. "Does it smell like-" "Blood?" Clove cuts me off, nodding, and I return to our silence. The cheers are still strong, these people not taking a break, in fact, they may even be getting louder, if it's possible, not that possibility is a problem for these people. Everything about their existence seems impossible, their odd hair, weird sense of style, and make-up that comes out in 3-d shapes. To some sense, it makes me angry, or sick, either way, I feel as if I'm going to barf from the mixture of the smell, people, and well, people, but I hold a new glare on my face, and reach the end of the hall.

A tall officer points all the boys down one corridor, and the girls down the other, and once we pass through a set of large, metal doors, the room is a silent mad house. I am pulled to the side by a group who I presume to be my stylists, they quickly sit me down in the chair, and within 30 seconds are pouring hot wax on my legs and buffing my nails, practically stealing my masculinity. There are four of them to a team, though my stylist is no where in sight, but the smallest of the team with long yellow hair, Cassia, keeps saying that I need to be prepared for him, as if I'm not good enough yet. "Sit still," a tall woman with white skin and pitch black hair hisses to me, upon opening her mouth I see that each of her teeth has been sharpened like a spike, resembling Enobaria, though her name ends up being Ravana.

After an hour of so, I feel…bare. the stylists having removed 95% of my body hair, simply leaving my eyebrows and hair on the top of my hair to rest, although they easily sheered away much of it using scissors and tweezers. "Aelius will see you Now." Ravana hisses as Cassia yanks another handful of product through my hair before letting me go, whimpering as if she wasn't done yet, though I'm happy to get away as soon as possible. I leave the large room where most of the tribute boys are still being worked on, and enter a smaller, quiet one, and to be honest, it's nice to escape the groans of pain from the other boys, as if there won't be enough later on.

"So, this is Cato," a large man I presume to be Aelius scoffs. He has very pale skin, but piercing, beady black eyes that flicker around the room, although you have a feeling that he's still watching. The only really weird thing about him would be his dark blue hair that only covers one half of his head, seeing as the other side has been shaved, as if she got in an argument with a razor. "I'll see what I can do with him…" he says trailing off for a moment as he turns around towards the wall, thinking for a moment, before beginning to walk around me.

"Are you just going to walk or actually do something, because in the way I see it, we don't have a ton of time here." I hiss, becoming irritated.

He begins to laugh.

It wasn't a normal laugh either, actually, one that reminded me of an old man back in district 2. The man, Calcius, had gotten into a mining accident, and was the last man who had gotten out before the mine collapsed onto of the others, but to get out in time, the old man had pushed others down and out of the way, as to save himself. Soon after, he became very sick, and often sat outside his home, watching as people walked by, and mumbling about how it wasn't his flat, along with other nonsense, and somedays, he would just burst out laughing, as if it was something of a joke to him. But it wasn't a normal laugh, is was deranged, disturbed, a cackle, something that would haunt you, it was a laugh filled of bad. That was the kind of laugh Aelius had.

"I would't suggest talking like that to me, because you see, how I'm portraying you today, will make you or break you. You could get sponsors, or none, it doesn't really matter to me, but I have a lot of influence over it. You can trust me, and your mentors, no one else, because in the end, they are all going to be trying to kill you. You may think you've trained all these years to put you a step ahead, but that cockiness will put you a step behind, because nothing can prepare you in there, well, nothing but the ones you can trust." He hisses, sitting down infront of me with a sinister look on his face.

"What do I have to do?"

Clove's POV

My entire body aches. Not the good pain that I feel after 8 hours of training, but the kind of ache that says my entire body was just de-haired, scrubbed down, and feminized beyond my comfort zone. They must've gotten rid of 4 layers of dead skin, removed any callus that had formed during training, gotten rid of any and all dirt on my body, as well as buff my nails down look like some coifed model in the Capitol Times, the only thing I could read or even do while my body and hair was scrubbed down to something I didn't know. My stylist, Germana, a woman with a long, green braid paces around the room, little rhinestones implanted next to her right eye reflect the light into weird light patterns onto the wall. She finally looks up at me, not noticing my presence for the last 3 minutes. "I like it," she says, referring to my outfit.

This year, they are dressing Cato and I are being dressed up like Roman Gladiators. I somewhat remember learning about they when I was 11 or 12, they did something similar to the Hunger games. They would put men, and lions, and swords in an arena, and the last survivor was the victor. The people loved watching it, in fact they thrived upon bloodlust. MAybe Snow got inspiration from them, but we are being portrayed as this victors of the gladiators, shielded in gold armor with swords of wood that have been painted to look like metal. "We should go," Germana says quickly, picking up a pair of large heels, "Put these on, make them fear a girl in heels, you do that, no one can touch you."

The trek towards the entrance to the square is a long one. We get on several small trams that bring us under ground until reaching a room where all the other tributes are standing, being prepped as to what they are going to be doing for the parade along with their outfits being smoothed out. I begin to hate my outfit a lot less upon seeing many of the other idiots here. I stand on my tiptoes, something harder to do when in heels, trying to spot Cato, but he's not here. Germana bends down to my level. "it's going to be a long ceremony, I'll tell you that, just make them love you. Appear as the beautiful young girl that will kill as a sport. You want to appear balanced, but twisted, because the sponsors want security. And darling, don't trust any of the other tributes, not even Cato, because at the end of the day, he'll try to kill you." she whispers before smoothing a hair under my helmet. "OH AELIUS!" She shouts upon seeing Cato's Stylist, bringing the two over to where we are standing, and as the two stylists stare at us, I look up at him, at first smiling, but he's glaring at me. A cold, lifeless, angry glare, and now I see, that he would really try to kill me.

"Onto the chariot with the two of you" Aelius cheers, quickly lifting me up as it I couldn't get up on my own. "Remember, make the crowd love you!"

We have to wait for a moment to actually start going, but once the District One Chariot is about 30 seconds out, we begin to take off. It's incredible how much they adore us. They shower us with roses and gifts from the Capitol, cheering our names from their seats, but then, the attentions is lost from us. I look at Cato, and he nods back. I carefully turn my head for a moment and see it, the district 12 goons are on fire, burning like a celebration. I quickly turn back, in order to look good for those who are still focused on us, but I know at this point, Cato hates them more than me.

The ceremony lasts a long time, mainly just President Snow giving a small tribute to each of our districts, going over the history and past games, and then dismissing us to his mansion to eat a fast dinner, but while greeting mentors and stylists afterwards, I see Cato giving the district 12s a death glare, and I know now that it is beyond the game now, and they are on the top of his kill list.


End file.
